Even the Loveliest Flowers have Thorns
by Flowerofthecourt
Summary: Chapter 11 is up. Fleur has all her life been misunderstood. Now with one of the most terrible days to come. Fleur comes into her own to fight, and to most of all learn to love
1. Pretty Woman

A/N: Hey all this is Stephi, the author of this fanfic. I've tried a few fanfics before and none of them really kicked off, so im hoping this one just might. The story's main character is Fleur Delacour , it shows the world through her eyes. I hope you readers will note im putting her into a more sensitive light then J.K Rowling did in her books. *Note that im not insulting J.K Rowling, in fact I quite like the way she portrayed Fleur, Im just developing her more than J.K ever did.* I hope you readers, will like the way I portray her, for I think we will be able to relate with her in some things she has opinions on.  
  
Disclaimer: Im not claiming ownership over any of the characters in this fanfic, all characters belong to J.K Rowling and her wonderful Harry Potter Series.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
Panting, the girl ran as fast as she could, she had to win. She MUST not lose! For the honor of her school's sake, for her own sake! The girl reached a fork and chose the left path. The ground before her changed, no longer was it sleek and smooth grass, it became a rocky dirty barren hill. In comparison the dark green hedges boarding looked severely out of place. The blond lost her footing and slipped on a few loose stones, dropping her wand, she tried to brace herself but failed. Down the girl fell, tumbling backwards, into the huge green enclosure. She cursed at her clumsiness. Her knee was covered in her own thick red blood. She shut her eyes and tried to ignore the stinging it caused. I must not tally! She thought. She slowly got up and walked to where her wand lay. She could fix her torn knee and still win! The sound of rustling of leaves brought the girls' attention towards the hedge across from her. Something was stirring in there. Could it be a creature of some sort? She frowned. A brown rod like object emerged. She stared. It was a wand! Could it belong to one of the other champions? "Stupefy!" A deep male voice said, that could certainly not belong to a students. A flash of blinding red light erupted out of the wand. She opened her mouth in horror.  
  
The girl, or young lady really, sat straight up in her bed, drenched in sweat so that her nightgown was stuck to her slim body. A hand clamped over her mouth. The dream, the nightmare, wasn't even the correct description for the pictures that recurred in her sleep, night after night. For those images had happened, only a month ago at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The trip to Scotland was in all do rights, supposed to be a place of action. How could in not be? After all the first Triwizard tournament was to be played in over a century at Hogwarts between the three biggest schools of Europe; Durmstrang, Hogwarts, and of course Beauxbatons, her school, or more recently her former school. Each school would have a champion that would compete against each other. The champions were picked from an impartial judge, the Goblet of Fire. The famous Quidditch player from Bulgaria, Viktor Krum was of course the champion from Durmstrang. From Beauxbatons, she Fleur Delacour was chosen, much to her surprise. And from Hogwarts two champions were chosen. Cedric Diggory and Harry Potter. By all means Cedric Diggory was the true champion. There had been an age line drawn around the goblet so that no person under 17 could put his or her name in. The goblet had been rigged. And poor Harry who never had even wanted to be in the competition was thrown into it and despite his young age of 14 he had won! It was not a happy victory though, the other Hogwarts champion Cedric had died in the third task, he was murdered by Lord Voldemort. Fleur shuddered and drew her cream lace sheets around her chin, her sapphire eyes lost in thought. She stayed like that for several minutes before deciding that since she was up she might as well get some breakfast.   
Quickly she shook out of her covers and sat down in her chair in front of her vanity table. The table itself was made in oak and around the edges lay intricate wood carvings of roses and vines. Rising from the table was an oval mirror also set in oak and with the same embroidery. The chair too, was made of oak with a straight back and a light pink pastel color fine silk cushion. Fleur reached out and took hold of her grandmother's brush with a slim pale hand. The brush glinted against the sun that was peeking in through the windows. The brush itself, was made of fine silver with peaches and pears in bundles tied in pretty ribbons that actually swayed in the wind, decorating it. The brush went silkily through her light blond hair that shined like the moon. Many ladies her age would spend hours (Minutes for Fleur) in front of a bathroom mirror trying to make their hair as beautiful as Fleur's own. But even if they managed to copy her exact hairstyle, (which of course would look absolutely beautiful on any woman) it would never look quite as beautiful next to Fleur's set of golden locks. Setting the brush down, Fleur next went to her powder box. She didn't use the powder to cover up any facial flaw, for she had none, it was more to make her skin more silky and soft (Then it already was), to give it that extra luminous glow. Once finished, Fleur pushed back her chair so that she could see her face more clearly. Her skin was perfectly pale, with dark sapphire blue eyes, and naturally dark ruby red lips. She had well defined cheekbones and a pert little nose. A blond crown of hair lined her face. In a man's eyes she was the most perfect woman in the world and yet for being absolutely beautiful, which should make a person happy, it almost made Fleur sad. The only thing missing from her perfect beauty now was a proper outfit. She quickly donned some dark blue robes that had a blue sash at the waist and some dark blue slippers and went down to breakfast.  
  
A/N: Please review!!! 


	2. Expectations

Closing her room door behind her, she silently walked down the hallway leading to the grand entry stairway. The hallway was painted a deep rose color, adorning its walls were many styles of pictures. Some were from the time period of the renaissance. Such as the Birth of Venus painted by Botticelli, it was the original. Another copy of the portrait can be found in the Uffizi in Florence, Italy, but that is just a copy. To muggles it is the original, but in truth the picture they see is merely a sketch of Venus with an illusion spell on it. The stairway resembled one that looked like in belonged in a fairytale. The banister was cut in a white type of wood that Fleur still hadn't figured out the name of. The steps were layered in a pure white carpet with gold tassels at the edge of every corner of every step. At the point the stairway ended, it opened up into a grand entrance ballroom. The floor was made in a checkered pattern of darker and darker mahogany colored wood. The walls were made of the same rose pink color of her hallway upstairs. But instead of pictures, the walls were covered with different styles and sizes of mirrors.   
Slowly, Fleur descended the steps of the magnificent fantasy flight of steps. Her hand lightly touching the banister's sleek polish. There was no smile adorning the fairy woman's face but the twinkle in her eye gave her happy mood away. It never fails, she thought, every morning I descend the exact same stair case and yet I still feel like a queen of some sort, walking down to greet her subjects. Now in the entry hall there are two doors: The great Victorian white double door that led out to the front garden or the door on the opposite side of the room. The dark brown parlor door. Fleur made her way towards the parlor door, pretending to waft and flutter like a fairy does. Inside the other end of the parlor door awaited a sitting room. And after that room came another sitting room. Then came a music room, and finally after that, Fleur reached her destination: The dinning hall. Out of all the magical and fantastical rooms in the Delacour palace, none was or would ever be greater than the exclusive dinning hall. It was an oval structure with a high ceiling. The ceiling gave off a dome like illusion, but in reality it was just a flat roof. The dome was painted like the Sistine Chapel. The Judgment day however was a replica, and not the real thing. The paintings on the illusion dome came down into painted strips when it reached the wall so it looked almost striped. On the other side of the room where Fleur entered raised an extravagant window that stopped right before the dome started. The window was covered with white silk curtains with gold leaves as an embroidery. At the very center of the priceless room sat the dinning table, made of ash. The table centerpiece was a bright array of pink and yellow and white flowers. At the very head of the table, sat Fleur's mother and her younger sister Gabrielle. Her mother looked up from her French Home magazine she was reading to smile at Fleur. Mme. Delacour was the most beautiful woman in the world. With long silvery blond hair that reached to about her ankles, milk white skin, ocean blue eyes and cherry red lips, she was more beautiful than a full veela. (She was only half)  
"Fleur!" She smiled, gesturing for her to come take a seat. "We were wondering when you would get up."  
Fleur grinned and took the seat next to Gabrielle, after she kissed her mothers' cheek. "I was tired."  
"I could tell that, Gabrielle and I were wondering if we should send Eeryie up to go fetch you."   
Eeryie was one of the many house elves they employed. "Well speak of the devil!" Mme. Delacour clapped her hands as the house-elf they spoke of appeared.  
Eeryie came in carrying a silver tray with their breakfast on it . After setting down the breakfast, Eeryie with a quick bow left them to their meal. Fleur looked down at her plate. Eeryie had fixed them two slices of French toast apiece, three pieces of sausages, and one pancake. Fleur grimaced. Eeryie always fixed too much food. She would certainly gain weight if she ate all that and then she would lose the one and only quality men admired about her: her looks.   
"What's wrong?" Mme. Delacour asked, seeing Fleur frown at the food.  
"Eeryie always puts too much food on my plate. And all that she puts on the plate is fattening foods."  
"What's so fattening about them?" Gabrielle chirped  
"See the sausage, its covered in grease, that has a ton of fat on it, plus the French toast has way to much sugar on it. The pancakes have butter, not margin." Fleur said pointing out the foods and the grease marks with her fork. Although anyone with veela blood is immune to skin disease, or losing their good looks with age, they can become unmercifully fat. A veela's one weakness is food, especially chocolate. On Valentine's Day any man who wanted to impress or show affection for a veela, had to bring them flowers or a teddy bear because if you gave chocolate it would be a fatal affair. First, a veela (Or anyone with veela blood) would eat the entire box of chocolate they received. Then they would mangle the man who gave it to them, thinking there might be more of the tasty brown goodness on them. Without realizing it, they most often kill the man while searching.  
"Just eat it Fleur, a little of that kind of food does not hurt you." Mme. Delacour said and forked a sausage. "Now Gabrielle won't eat until you do, so eat!"   
It did look scrumptious, thought Fleur and against her will her mouth began to water. Maybe mother is right a little doesn't hurt. Oh but it will! Once I taste it, I'll ask for more and more, I must not eat. Fleur had done it; she split her mind or her stomach really into two sides. The hungry side, and the not hungry- must- remain -thin -side.  
Eat.  
No!  
Doesn't it look tasty? Smell the sweet scent of sausage.  
No must remain thin and lovely!  
A little won't hurt.  
Well maybe..  
Yes!  
  
"Fleur?"  
"Huh?"   
"Are you alright, you have a dazed look in your eye."  
"I'm fine, just have a stomach ache." Fleur quickly lied. She didn't want to tell her mom she was having a fight with her own mind.  
They finished the rest of the meal in silence, Fleur's hungry side prevailed and she cleaned her plate, not even leaving the extra syrup that fell off her pancake. She wished for more food, but her will power stopped her.  
As Eeryie whisked away the empty dishes, an owl swooped in from the open window and landed a letter in Fleur's hands before taking off again.   
"What's that?" Fleur's mother said as she took a sip of tea.  
"I don't know."  
She looked down and read the bright red handwriting on the envelope. It read.  
Ms. Fleur Delacour  
Dinning room second chair to the right of the head  
Aula Palatinus  
France.  
  
With nimble fingers she tore open the top of the envelope, drawing out a thick piece of parchment that was folded into three squares. The front of the folded letter had a seal. The seal was made in blue wax and was designed with an imprinted flower and camera. Under the pictures was a tiny little banner that words in it read: Magical department of photography.  
Curious, to see what this was all about, broke the seal and only read the first line before slamming the letter down on the table.  
"We are pleased to inform you that your application to become a model for our department has been accepted!" Fleur's eyes flashed dangerously towards the blond woman who gave her birth. She had no recollection of applying to be a model, and was quite sure she had no faulty memory. "Would you happen to know anything about this application that I did not send to your old work?"   
"Of course I do, I sent the application." Her mother said quite calmly, taking another sip of tea, "Your out of school now, you need work. What kind of mother would I be if I did not provide my daughter a job?"  
Fleur looked down at the table. Her hand was clenched into a fist, shaking under the pressure of her fury. "I do not want this job." She said, trying to keep her voice level.  
"Well you won't need to have it for long. Your father came along only about four months after I started, and proposed. Some sap will come along for you after a few weeks I bet."  
"Haven't you realized that I don't want marry a poor sap?" Fleur whispered. " Father was a sap for you, don't you see now how he regrets being fooled?"  
Instead of answering straight away, Mme. Delacour turned to look at Gabrielle. "Sweet, why don't you go play in the garden for a while, that's my girl." Then after the door had shut, she turned and answered in a cold voice.  
"Every man is a poor sap when it comes to women like us. If you are looking for love in a relationship then you are in a fool, but so far you haven't, your content as long as he is a good kisser." Then in a lighter tone she continued. "All I'm trying to do is look out for your benefit. You need a living and this is the best way to do it."  
Fleur looked up at her mother and knew what she was saying was true. Men were saps. She had always been able to bend any man she had a remote interest in, all except Cedric. The thought of him brought tears to her eyes. He had seen through her beauty and say she was nothing more than a slut. Beauty was more of a curse than anything else. It was not a gift from God as so many believe. It was a curse it.   
"Then you want me to be more of a whore than I already am." With that Fleur fled from the table, silent tears dripping down her face.  
  
  
A/N: I hope you all like the latest chapter. I hope you are all seeing a little bit of her character now. Fleur is insecure, yet she wants to become more secure. Fleur has great looks, but she believes that is her only good quality and yet she also thinks her one good quality is cursed. She is having an internal conflict of what she has been known for and what she wants to be known for. In the next chapter you will learn a little bit more about her past. And you will see more of character. 


	3. A Past Painful History

A/N: ok Third chapter. In this chapter we will learn more about Fleur's history. Then I think it will be a lot easier for you guys to get what i'm writing. And it will be a lot easier for me to describe Fleur. Oh and i'm soooooooooooooooooo soooooooooooooooo sorry for not saying this sooner. I'd like to thank everyone for reviewing my story. Thank you all so much! And thanks for all the comments to make it better! I really appreciate it. I hope you like the next chapter of the story.  
  
  
  
Somehow it always seems, that the best place to cry out all the frustrations or problems a person has, is a garden. With all of the sunlight and flowers and beautiful living things, it was almost impossible by the end of an hour to still remain depressed or angry. Fleur sat under a humongous willow tree. She was neither crying nor feeling sorry for herself, she was contemplating, her first year at Beauxbatons, oh how different she was back then! She had been outgoing, friendly, everything a person was looking for in a friend and did she have so MANY friends, especially was she friends with Bonamy Piget for that time. The blessings of being that young was that love and crushes did not exist. Boys thought girls had cooties and girls thought boys were icky and gross. In her second year that all changed. Boys were beginning to notice girls as girls were noticing them. Fleur grabbed the attention of every boy in the school and not just the boys in her year but in other older years as well. They flirted with her. Not realizing the game yet, Fleur just answered honestly at their coy remarks. But to everybody else it seemed as if she was flirting back. The older girls soon began to talk in loud whispers about her whenever she was around them. Mean things cruel things, insults such as slut and whore all because they were jealous. The girls in her own year, her so-called friends too began to despise her, for such reasons as 'stealing their crushes.' Fleur, seeing and hearing all this, thought she could at least count on her best friend, Bonamy for companionship. But alas, Bonamy had left her too. Fleur sighed as she remembered all this, but even worse was she could still remember the exact conversation between herself and Bonamy, that ended their friendship.  
  
"Bonamy why does everyone hate me so? I do not understand." In her innocence, she did not know what she had done to anger all these girls. "Well you wouldn't." "What do you mean." "Isn't it obvious?" "Not to me." "God, Fleur you are so slow!" "How am I slow?" Fleur asked Bonamy, angrily. How could she be slow, when she always did well in classes? "You tell me you don't know why everyone hates you, when it is so obvious." Bonamy sneered. "You flirt with every guy in the school." Fleur remembered at this moment her jaw dropped straight open and closed it several times before she could answer she was so angry. " I do not flirt Bonamy, They come talk to me, so I talk to them back!" "Except what you call talking is actually called flirting!" "Why are you accusing me like this, Bonamy I thought we were friends?" This was the heartbreaking line. Out of all the people who hated Fleur at that time, she always thought Bonamy would stand by her no matter what happened. Rain or snow, wind or sleet, but here Bonamy was almost declaring open war upon her. "Yea I thought so too." Frustrated, Fleur try to keep the hot, angry tears from dripping down her cheeks. Bonamy had abandoned her. Her best friend had chosen to hate her all on some stupid jealousy. And so there after, Fleur walked alone down the halls away from all her onetime friends. But she really wasn't alone, she had her admirers trailing after her, confirming, what her now enemies thought of her, a flirt and a slut. Trying to drive away those thoughts of her running around the school, she was cold to the many men that worshiped the ground she walked on. But alas when Fleur saw this had not even dented the girls' opinions on her, she slowly began to realize that even if she took a vow of chastity all the girls would still hate her and the guys would still never let her be at peace. She cried many nights over her predicament, why was she given this life of loneliness. It was all those wretched girls fault for being jealous of her looks. She wanted revenge on Bonamy and her crew for abandoning her for just simply being herself. A smile crept up on Fleur's face as she thought of the perfect payback Revenge was so sweet. Instead of trying to win her friends back like she did before, she was going to torture them make her hate her even more as she now had come to hate them. And instead of being cold to her admirers, Fleur grew coy with them, sly and attentive to their every needs. She had now deserved the 'title' slut as she had not deserved before. During her years at Beauxbatons she practically dated all of the male population her age or older, (Occasionally a younger one, when he was particularly cute and had many admirers himself.) The girls, Bonamy and her friends especially taunted her, calling her such things as whore, player, slut and worse. But they no longer bothered her as they did; she had formed a wall around her feelings. A thick, strong, stonewall that nobody would penetrate. She was incabable of being hurt or sad anymore. The only person who indeed warmed her heart was her own sister Gabrielle. Then only the year before she had qualified to have a chance to be a champion for the Triwizard Tournament, something her fellow classmates never dreamed she was able to do. They had always pictured and thought of her as a dumb blond. But she was hardly that, She was at the top of her class. Bonamy had also been nominated, along with some of her pack: Jolie Adlier, Felicite Brie. How they were nominated was out of Fleur's grasp of knowledge. Madame Maxime, their headmistress took them to Hogwarts to compete. And out of all the people picked from Beauxbatons, she, Fleur had been chosen. It was one of her most pleasurable experience walking by Bonamy giving her a triumphant smile. She had won this battle! But indeed the tournament was not in the least what she expected. Harry Potter, who was too young to even enter the contest, had been chosen as the fourth champion. (There should have been only three) along with the other Hogwarts champion Cedric Diggory. Fleur resented Harry until he proved valiant in saving the most precious thing for her: Her sister Gabrielle. There were three obstacles that they had to work through, that were all very hard indeed, but the favorite thing of the whole tournament for many people (Fleur excluded) was the Yule ball. Now Fleur had had her eye on Cedric for quite sometime, he was tall dark and handsome and a wonderful personality. She put on all the charm, all the stunts to win him over. With her many experience with guys in the past, Fleur came to the conclusion they fell easily to her will. But Cedric had proved difficult. He had too innocent of a heart to be lured in her seductiveness. She tried every trick in the book to get him to ask her to the ball. But he never did and she was getting desperate, never before had a man refused her. She so very much wanted him even more now, then she ever did before. She had already turned down everyone else who had asked her. Finally she had resorted to asking him sacrificing pride for a desperate attempt of approval from the man that held her affections. She pulled him into what she thought was an empty corridor to ask him  
  
"Cedric, do you want to take me to the Yule Ball?" "Err.. Sorry Fleur I already asked someone else to go with me." Fleur gaped; he had asked someone else while she had used her Veela charm. Impossible! "Oh fine. Ok." "Well sorry, but I got to run." Fleur didn't reply to him but watched him go.  
  
As soon as he was out of sight, Fleur heard a crackling laughter "Poor Poor Fleur, did she actually get turned down for a date?" It was Bonamy. She had been hiding in the shadows. Fleur cursed her silently, whishing that she could turn her into a rat or something of that source. "I don't believe that ever happened to you before, did he actually see through your fakeness." She wasn't going to give into Bonamy's pleasure, but instead she walked silently away, with her head held high.  
  
She had taken Roger Davis to the dance instead and had a good time all the same (He was a good kisser.). She shot daggers at Cedric's date Cho Chang the entire night, and she also cursed Cedric for refusing her.  
  
Now, that is was all over Fleur hated herself for hating Cedric for refusing her. He had done nothing wrong. He had just loved someone else but her.. and now he was dead, murdered. Cedric had been the most innocent of all the champions. He had qualities many admired and he would never bless the world again with his laugh or smile. Harry who had witnessed Cedric's death had brought his body back to be buried. Cedric was murdered by Lord Voldemort.  
  
The name Lord Voldemort brought a shiver down her spine. That he was alive and back to full power scared her to her soul. She leaned heavily against the willow tree and sighed. Being a model in these times to come would prove pointless. Her mother had been right in saying it would be the easiest job for her, but would it be the best for her? She wanted to do something that others would benefit from, thinking that it was at least she could do for Cedric. She didn't want to be known as a whore anymore, she wanted to be respected and loved. She wanted to go work at Hogwarts. It was the perfect place to find work. It would give her a job people respected, it would benefit others, and she would be helping to fight the war against Voldemort.  
  
  
  
A/N. Enjoy! I hope you like it. Please keep reviewing, I love the input! 


	4. A Woven Trust

A/N: Hey all thank you for all the reviews that you have been sending me! Like I said, the input is great! I'm glad you are all connecting with Fleur's character, I was afraid you wouldn't start understanding her person until much later in the story! It tells me I'm doing something right in my writings. Well in chapter four, you will find Fleur at her happiest, and at her saddest. You will find out more about her history and her father.  
  
Crickets could be heard that night at the dinner table. Fleur was silently eating her dinner without complaint, (Which was a first,) instead she kept her head down, wither eyes darting all around the room. Mme. Delacour was as always, cool and reserved, and drunk her tea with her little pinky sticking out. And Gabrielle, Gabrielle watched both mother and sister in interchanging turns, wondering why nobody was uttering a word. Fleur finished the last spoonful of her cream of mushroom soup, with a dash of parsley, as Eeryie appeared with a china cup of tea for both Delacour girls. She whisked up the girls' plates with a nimble tiny hand, and with the other set down the cup. Then, like a wisp of lightning she was gone again. Now with nothing to look down at, or to be distracted by, (Fleur hated tea, since she had it so much) She began to nibble on her thumb.  
  
What would her mother say, when she told her she decided to work at Hogwarts? Would she be angry? She couldn't be angry. It was her own decision to make, for what to do for a career. Not her mothers. Yea, that's right. She couldn't decide her future. In fact she would have no right to be mad.  
  
All these mixed thoughts were bounding about in Fleur's head. Both her rebellious and cautious parts of mind were putting up good fights, but it seemed the rebellious side was winning, as it was though the cautious area was not dying easily.  
  
She could not be afraid. This was her own mother, for the Almighty's sake. Her mother was not something to be feared. Of course she was something to be feared! The apocalypse was always something to be feared when mother threw a temper tantrum! That is quite an exaggeration. The rebellious side shot back.  
  
Fleur began to nimble on her pinky since she had begun to actually puncture the skin on her thumb. Her rebellious side of mind was right, her mother was just her mother and nothing to be feared. Sure, it seemed like the apocalypse was near when she was angry, but she was formidable enough the rest of the time. Besides, this was not some petty minor thing they needed to discuss, this was her Future.  
  
She sighed, and took a deep breath. She was still afraid, but she knew what she had to do. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, a screech erupted from outside the window in the early evening sky. Fleur quickly looked up, a large brown mass was flying in the distance. It was of course an owl, but it was to dim to tell if it was one of the family's owls or someone else's.  
  
She squinted, until the bird came fluttering in. It was her father's owl Dimitry. It landed right next to Mme. Delacour's china teacup, depositing its letter, then flew off to the owlery in the attic for a quick rest and a bite to eat before it returned to its master. Mme. Delacour quickly unrolled the parchment, and read a few lines before letting out desolate cry. Fleur looked down at her lap, for she knew the contents of the letter already, just by the sound of her mothers sob. He, Fleur's father, Monsieur Delacour had decided to postpone his coming home. Before the letter had come, he said he would have come back within the week.  
  
Monsieur Delacour was a merchant or sales person by trade. He worked for the France Ministry of magic in the International Sales Division. He took random muggle objects, such as basketball shoes or tennis rackets and enhanced them with magic to make them better than before and sold them back to the muggle public. To anybody who knows magic law, they would know this kind of profession is a borderline one, for it states in the Frank Magical Population Code of law, "that no witch or wizard is to take advantage of a muggle, (Non-magic folk.) in any situation, nor is any witch or wizard to tinker with a muggle's creation to cause harm." Her fathers' administration made the creations "better". So now certain basketball shoes would be able to jump better, or tennis rackets had more power and were quicker than before. Such companies as Nike and Adidas invested in these, and were sworn to secrecy about the origin of the shoes or any other object made for them, and told the public that scientific research had proved yet again to make bigger and better shoes or exc. Therefore, Fleur's father was always traveling promoting deals with big corporations all over the world, and was usually gone for months at a time. At the present, he was in Argentina doing promotions for SONY.  
  
Fleur gently pried the letter from her mother's hand and smoothed it out.  
  
Dear Delia and family, I have decided not to come home this week after all. I settled all the deals for SONY, of course. Muggles are so competitive in their economy to become the richest and most powerful that they would sell their souls to the devil. Which is fortunate for us, for the more they desire riches the more we become wealthier off their greed. Seeing this I've also been able to strike deals with many other companies, such as Microsoft, a computer business (A machine to write letters and talk on.) and Starbucks coffee. It seems they are desperate for a new coffee formula. After I finish up here in Argentina, I will be off to Taiwan to see what I can find over there. I'm hoping to snatch major toy companies across seas. Then as soon as I finish that, I must fly to the United States to meet with some important businessmen such as a man named Bill Gates, he owns Microsoft. He is famous in the muggle world. Do not worry about me, for I am making us richer and richer, and I will see you, when I have time. Until then,  
  
Chapin.  
  
Fleur sighed. The last time her father was home was the beginning of last summer and that was only for a short week before he was off on the road again. He had never really been a good father, Fleur thought looking at the letter again. It wasn't the first time he had failed to come home because of important business matters he had to attend too. Fleur remembered many years ago, back before even Gabrielle was born, that when she was a wee little thing, she didn't know a type of person called a father existed. Of course she remembered the letters her mother got from her father, but he had always wrote his name as Chapin, and so she just assumed that he was a long lost friend of her mothers'. She asked her mother about it one day, curious on whom this mysterious Chapin was, and Fleur remembered her mother broke out in tears and said it was Fleur's father.  
  
Fleur looked at her mother. She was neither crying nor looking helpless anymore she regained her normal composure once again. She was quietly sipping her tea, looking as if nothing was the matter. Of course Fleur knew better, she was absolutely devastated. Quickly, Fleur shooed Gabrielle out of the room. Then after quickly shutting the dinning room doors, she went to her mother. The perfectly white hand that held the teacup soon began to shake. Mme. Delacour burst out in tears and dropped the fragile cup. Fleur quickly started rubbing her mothers back whispering condolences. Sometimes, Fleur thought wryly, that her and her mother seemed more like best friends, than mother and daughter.  
  
"I HATE THAT MAN!" Mme. Delacour wailed into her daughters' shoulder. Fleur said nothing but continued to pat her back. "I don't know why I married him, except he actually seemed to care about me at the time." Fleur let out a small grunt, wasn't her mother just saying that afternoon that all men were saps. Mme. Delacour heard the grunt. " I know what you're thinking, about what I said earlier about men and women like us." She took a deep breath and continued, thinking that she needed to explain this whole sitiuation. "I used to think like you do, about some Prince Charming who would actually love me for me and not just for my looks."  
  
"I was not as smart as you are Fleur when I was your age, and the modeling job was the only job I was good at because of my veela charm and my veela looks." "I actually liked modeling, because I was actually something in society, I was not some poor dumb blonde without a job." "I had many admirers and I had a lot of fan mail from the male population, on how they loved me and their undying devotion for me, but I knew they were all insincere and cared nothing for me, they just wanted to sleep with me."  
  
"Then I met your father, even then he was a high official in the Ministry, although at that time he was working at the experimental charms department. We met at a charity ball for St. Augustus, they were raising money to help find an aid Mealpox, (A red scratchy rash that comes Pixies if bitten.)."  
  
"I had come with a friend of his from his office, and we were introduced."  
  
"Immediately I thought he was the Prince I had been looking for, he was calm, resourceful, intelligent, and sometimes even kind and didn't care about my looks as much as other men had." "I gave him all the charm, desperate for his love, and we were soon married about a week after we met. And then we realized we didn't know anything about each other and were as different as day and night." "He thought I was a weak woman he could control which made him marry me, and when he realized I wasn't, he believed I gullied him with my veela charm to make him act in an irrational way." "Which is true in a way." She finished sadly. "But it's no excuse to not to even come and visit your own children even if he hates his wife! Fleur, who had never figured out or known the story behind her parent's marriage, sat down. It was just a Political marriage, Fleur thought, Her mother had not deluded her father but he deluded her into thinking he loved her. Now she could see why her mother thought that all men were saps and that there is no love for veela women. It all made sense. "Oh mama," Fleur said wrapping her arms around her mothers neck. "I'm so sorry mama." "Don't be, he gave me you and Gabrielle didn't he, and for that I will always be in his debt." "Can't you just divorce him?" Fleur said, tears dripping down her face. "We don't need him." "Its not worth it, the scandal it would cause, your father is an important man and widely known." "Who cares about the scandal mama, look at what he has done to you, to us?" "But, that's why dearest, I'm forever in his dept. He gave me you and your sister. You two are the most precious things in the world to me." "I love you mama," Fleur whispered. She nodded. "I know."  
  
Fleur than drew back into her seat, wiping the dripping tears that fell down her face with the back of her hand. Her mother gave her a watery smile. It was a horrible time to say this, but she just had too, she couldn't keep it dwelled inside of her anymore. IT HAD TO COME OUT. She couldn't become a model; if she did it would be the death of her and her spirit.  
  
"I don't want to become a model mama," Fleur whispered. Her bottom lip began to tremble, she didn't want to make her mother even more troubled or upset, but she couldn't keep the fact in anymore. She didn't want to fall in the same trap as her mother did, now more than ever did she want to become a teacher.  
  
"I know you don't, and you don't have too. I've given it a lot of thought this afternoon and realized that you have better gifts inside of you to share with the world, than to be cooped up as a model." A heavy weight had suddenly been lifted off of Fleur's shoulders; she felt as light as feather, and for the first time today she gave a real smile. A big humongous overjoyed smile that no one could wipe off her face. Her mother was truly, the most wonderful woman in the world, and Fleur was honored to be her daughter. "Just exactly do you want to be Fleur?" her mother smiled. "A teacher." The smile increased.  
  
A/N: Ok I just redid the entire format of chapter four, and if my computer still screws it up I think I will kill it and burn it into flames. 


	5. Never Leave Me

A/N: From the last chapter I've gotten some questions on why Fleur's mother reacted the way she did when Fleur told her she wanted to be a teacher, I know it might seem strange she took it so well, but you, readers will learn more behind Mme. Delacour reason in this chapter. Ok grr. I've just realized my computer is messing up what I post to make it all run together. Blast the darn thing, meanwhile I will try to figure it out how to fix it and write more.  
  
  
  
"This is foolish Fleur." "What is so foolish about it Mother?" Fleur asked innocently. "This whole concept of becoming a teacher!" Mme. Delacour snapped. "No sane headmaster would employ you!" "Some headmasters might." "Damn it Fleur, here you are living in the dream world again! The only school you would be able to teach in would be a nunnery!" "I could teach at Hogwarts." "Teach what, how to grab a guy in less than 20 seconds? I don't think that's in the curriculum!" "I was under the impression you approved of my decision to be a professor. You certainly liked the idea last night" Fleur's eyes flashed dangerously.  
  
" I wasn't in my right mind, and besides it did not occur to me, when I said you could do another profession, that you would go leaving to England!" "You seemed to be in your right mind to me and you should know I would never work at Beauxbatons. I hate that hell hole!" "I was upset, depressed, I wasn't thinking clearly, I was too wrapped up in my own worries and uncertainties that I no longer cared what you should do. All I cared about last night, was for you to say you loved me and that I was a good mother, I needed to hear those things." Fleur gaped at her mother from behind the desk. They were in the Library, Fleur had been writing her résumé to Headmaster Dumbledore at Hogwarts, before her mother had barged in. The fury pending inside of her was building. So, Fleur thought angrily, her mother had really not cared about what she wanted to do; she just wanted to win back her love and trust. And now she was having second thoughts about the whole teacher idea. "All you said about me having special gifts was a lie?" Fleur wanted to know. She clenched the desks' edge tightly so that the knuckles on her hands were turning white; Emotions were swirling around in her head, confusion, anger, frustration, and fury.  
  
"I did not lie, as you so put it, for you do have gifts and many of them, but none are good for what you think you are going to do!" "Think? Think I'm going to do? I'm not thinking about teaching, I am going to teach!"  
  
Mme. Delacour's eyes turned into slits, her lovely face suddenly contorted into something that resembled a venomous viper that was ready to strike at will.  
  
"What did you just say?" She hissed. "I'm not thinking about teaching, but am going to teach." Fleur said calmly, looking at the she-demon, her mother had now looked like No longer did Fleur fear her mother, no longer was she going to be controlled by her anymore. It was the end of the end. No longer was she going to live a pointless life, one without meaning. She was going to start a new life, one without her mother making all the decisions for her. No longer would her mother drive her by her own guilt.  
  
"I will no longer take orders from you anymore!" The white-blond crown of hair around Fleur's face began to waver. The pent up anger frustrations, that her mother had smothered, kept inside of her for all those years of her own childhood, burst forth. A glow almost shined about her face, as her sapphire blue eyes if possible seemed to become darker, almost the color black. She looked beautiful yet terrible as the dawn of a new day. The glow around her face soon enveloped her whole body. An angelic spirit had seemed to capture her sole and closed around her heart. A shriek erupted from the mouth of Mme. Delacour, a high-pitched furious cry.  
  
"YOU WILL OBEY ME, I AM YOUR MOTHER! YOU WILL STAY HERE IN FRANCE." She screeched.  
  
"I AM NO LONGER YOUR PUPPET OR LITTLE GIRL!" Fleur hollered, yelling over her mother's cry. "I WILL DECIDE WHAT TO DO WITH MY OWN LIFE!  
  
"IT IS BECAUSE OF ME THAT YOU HAVE LIFE!" "AND I HAVE THE CHOICE OF WHAT TO DO WITH THE LIFE YOU GAVE ME AND I CHOOSE TO MAKE A DIFFERENCE WITH IT!" Fleur told her mother. One of the most frightening eras was soon to be upon them, and she was not going to stand by and let the world and people she loved burn and rot at the hand of Voldemort. The snake of the face that had masked Mme. Delacour's was erased as a tear fell down her cheek. Trying to hide it with hand, she pretended to cough. It did not conceal the sight of the tear from Fleur however.  
  
"Don't pretend to cry, I won't feel sorry for you." Fleur said coldly. "You deserved everything I've said. I lied last night too, I hate you." "You want me to be a model like you, yourself was, and you suffered from it, and now you want me to suffer the same fate you encountered? You just want me to be just like you, have the same pointless life you are living. I am going to Hogwarts, and there is nothing you can do to stop me."  
  
Mme. Delacour backed up against the wall, a shivering pale hand clamped upon her face, silent tears running down her face. Fleur looked at her with disgust. No wonder I am such a disgrace, I inherited it from my mother, she thought, collected her letter and left the room.  
  
The door slammed behind her. Mme. Delacour collapsed to the ground, weeping. "As you should.. as you should hate me, but only if you knew.. only knew my side." She whispered, clutching her arms about her, rocking back in forth. " I do not want you to suffer, but I will suffer if you have your wish." "Would it be to hard for you to live here forever with me, my precious, to stay with me always?" "Why couldn't you stay my little baby forever?" "I love you my angel, but now having trying to keep you with me, has it caused us to grow apart, and to hate me?"  
  
"Mama?," the door creaked open. Mme. Delacour looked up, and beckoned her youngest daughter into her arms where she held her tight. "What is wrong mama?" Gabrielle asked, as she felt the tears fall upon her cheek. "Never leave me, please don't ever leave me." Mme. Delacour whispered into her daughters white wave of hair. " I won't mama." "Even when you grow up, will you leave me?" " I will never leave you mama." Mme. Delacour shut her eyes, as more tears slipped out, and kissed the back of her daughter's head. " Thank you." "I love you mama."  
  
A/N: Does that help explain Mme. Delacour's actions from the last chapter? I hope so. I had to redo this chapter so many times, to get it right and I probably still have mistakes. Also I want to clear something up before I begin to get questions about it. Back in the fourth book Cornelius Fudge, refused to believe that Voldemort was back and would not sacrifice his job on account of what to him seemed rumors. The same goes for all the other ministries in other foreign countries, they refuse to believe the possibility of it, so therefore won't disclose the fact to their publics. The only fact they had disclosed about the mayhem at the Triwazard Cup is that Cedric had died in a Freak Accident. In the next chapter you will learn more about The France Ministry of Magic and other ministries too and how they are able to keep all the facts about Voldemort hidden and secret. Hope everyone enjoyed this chapter, please review on it! ( 


	6. Traveling Stranger

Fleur slammed the door of her room and flopped down on her bed, tossing her writing and her writing equipment on the floor. She buried her head in the pillow, as angry tears flowed out. Her mother was a bitch, she thought, fuming and it wasn't supposed to be like that. In fairytales, the mother was always a sweet, loving, kind, charming person that everyone loved. It was supposed to be the stepmother that was evil and cruel! Fleur beat her tiny fists against her pillows. "WHY, WHY, WHY?" She whispered, "WAS I BORN TO THAT WRETCHED WOMAN, why couldn't I be normal, just normal, with a regular life, with friends. why can't I be ugly?" When she cried out all her tears, she sat up and looked across the room to her reflection in the mirror. A blond watery blue-eyed girl looked back at her. In a quick movement she was next to her mirror, her tiny fists striking it. Filled with a rage she could not grasp, she pounded it again and again, never ceasing. Red was now the color of her hands, as the glass dug through the skin, splashing blood everywhere. Fleur was in a daze of anger and hatred, immune to feelings, immune to pain. All she could feel was the hatred she had; she had for her mother, the world, but mostly herself. The mirror was in ruins, when Fleur collapsed on the floor, her legs landing on the fallen glass shards that had not been blocked by her butchered hands. She took no notice of it however, wrapped up her own self-torment. "I hate you," She whispered to herself. " I HATE YOU!" she wailed, and broke into sobs again.  
  
The sun went down. Light went out as the start of the night began. It was ever so especially dark in the third room on the left side, on the second floor of the grand manor Aula Palatinus. Fleur had not bothered to heal her ruined hands and scratched legs, as she sat in the darkest corner of her room. She welcomed the pain. She was still full of anger and hate, but she had calmed down enough to think clearly again.  
  
"I can't stay here. I'll forever be a prisoner." She whispered to herself. "But where to go?"  
  
England, was her first thought, but where could she go in England? She had not even applied for a job at Hogwarts yet, and was not even sure they had any openings.. or that they would even accept her. Then it occurred to her, Margot, her aunt! Margot was her father's older sister. She had married a British muggle years back at when they met in Australia. She was there for a wand trader's convention and he had been studying snakes there. It had been love at first sight, but it had a slight drawback to it. Walter, her uncle, was terrified of magic. So therefore, Margot lived in muggle London, using hardly any magic at all, but at least she seemed happy with her mate.  
  
It was perfect. But what if she wouldn't take her in? What if she didn't have room? Fleur thought, worried. What if they would send her back here?" They couldn't DO that, Fleur thought, She was an ADULT now and she could take care of herself. She made up her mind; it was off to England for her. She quickly grabbed her wand, on her bedside table and healed up all her wounds she inflicted on herself. She flinched with pain as the cuts disappeared. Then, running to her closet, gathered all of her clothes, belongings, old spell books anything she could find and threw it into her trunk. Looking around, to see if she left anything. She glanced at her vanity table and saw her grandmother's brush lying there.  
  
Trembling, Fleur reached out with her hand and took the brush and gently stroked her hair with it one last time. Then, quietly snuck down the hall way to Gabrielle's room and set it on her bed. Looking at her little sisters bed, since she probably couldn't have a last glimpse of her without seeing her mother. Fleur snuffed up her tears, and told herself this would not be the last time she would see Gabrielle, she would see her again, and she would write to her, So it wasn't all that bad, being away from her. Then Fleur quietly closed the door, took her trunk and went to the nearest fireplace.  
  
The bad thing about floo powder is that in only works if you are going somewhere in that Country that you are staying in. It didn't work internationally, since there were so many systems that the ministry could use for the Floo network that it was often each country had an entirely different one. Apparation would be easier, but since having a deadly fear for being splinched and she didn't even have her license, Fleur took the long way about to get to England. Fleur chose to go to the Dragon's Pub, for her first stop. The Dragon's Pub was just that, a pub. But it was not only a Pub.. if you open the third door to the right of the stairs, by tapping it three times with your wand, it opened up into a magical shopping wonderland. Since it was so old fashioned muggles rarely seek to go in there, but when on occasion one did, all they would see was a closed down old diner.. That was covered with cobwebs and mold.  
  
Fleur whished down the fireplace, with her eyes closed, as soot and ash rushed around her and her trunk, and reached her destination with a small thud on the fireplace floor.  
  
Fleur coughed twice, and shook the soot out of her eyes, before she could look around. Nobody noticed her entrance, as she had expected. It was quite normal for someone to plop in the fireplace. She got up, shook the ash and soot of her clothes and hair and dragged her trunk to a table near by. The Pub was brightly colored, but very mismatched. The wall was a light red almost pink tone, while the chairs were dark purple and the tables were covered with a striped light yellow and green tablecloth.  
  
Somewhat exhausted, although having no idea why, Fleur ordered a glass of ice water, with a tint of strawberry flavor. It only cost a few knuts, but it was more than she wanted to spend, when she got the check with her drink. I need to spend my money more carefully, if I'm going to get to England, thought Fleur. She dug through her trunk, trying to find her money purse that was probably under all her layers and layers of clothes when.. "Hi there." Fleur looked up and met blue eyes. "Is that seat taken?" The speaker was a tall, with a slight tan and golden blond hair. He spoke with a heavy German accent. He was handsome, Fleur thought bitterly, just what I need, another man infatuated with my beaux. "Yes it is, it will be occupying my trunk." Fleur told him coldly. The man laughed and sat down in the chair across from her. Fleur stared at him, anger welling up in her chest. This man had sat down anyway, when she explicitly told him to get lost. "I believe I said that seat was for my trunk, not for you." She hissed. He waved that away with a hand, then signaled for Frank, the bartender to come over. "Here," The stranger said, dumping some coins in Frank's hand, "For the lady's drink." Fleur stared at him, this man seemed to think himself her consort! She would not let him have the satisfaction of paying for her, she was not a pauper. "Wait!" she called to Frank who was already starting to move away from their table, and pulled out her own money from her purse. "I will pay for my own drink, consider his a tip." Frank, who was always a little slow, just nodded confused and walked away. The man laughed again. "Your not an easy woman to care for are you?" Fleur glared. She knew she hated this man, but most of all his hated features about him, she hated his laugh. " I do not wish to be cared for, especially by you.. or whoever you are!" She said. The man laughed again, as Fleur winced. "I was simply being polite, I'm Johann by the way." He said reaching his hand across the table. Fleur stared at as her nostrils flared. "Does my hand have a bad odor miss," He laughed, seeing her nose. Fleur glared yet again at him, hoping he would take the hint that she disproved of him , be he took no notice whatsoever. "I have to be on my way Monsieur, I must arrive at my destination soon." Fleur got up and was prepared to leave, but Johann grasped her hand, smiling up at her. It was a queer smile that made a shiver run down her spine. "Would it be good manners, to leave without telling me your name?" Fleur stared at him, a little frightened now, something about him scared her. "Fleur." She said. He let go of her hand.  
  
A/N: hey all, sorry for not writing much lately.... I've been very busy with school and a play I've been working on. But now I can write.. and I hope all of you like this chapter. In the next chapter.. you will be introduced into even more new characters.. and maybe even some old ones. You never know! Lol. Also I love all the reviews you all have been sending to me.. if you can keep that up it would be great! 


	7. Back To The Same Ol Game

Fleur rubbed her arms, as she journeyed out into the marketplace, her mind on Johann. His touch was cold and almost lifeless feeling. Fleur shuddered and rubbed her arms even more, more than ever glad to be away from him. She smiled as she looked around; out of all the places in France this place had to be her favorite. All the shops resembled little townhouses, which looked especially magical in the evenings, with faires decorating the night sky. A fiddler was playing his fiddle a little way off. It was almost as if she journeyed back in time, to the Renaissance. Of course that was the olden part of the Dragon's Pub market. The ministry had felt that it needed to keep up with the times, come up with new inventions and so on. It was a wonderful idea of course, but it's easier to make these things, then to get the public using them.  
  
Behind the townhouses, lay a marble circle. Gringott's was the first building to the right of the circle. The international bank had much revamped in past years. Instead of carrying huge moneybags around, full of knuts, sickles, galleons, etc, they offered checkbooks and checking accounts, and credit cards all charmed with steal-proof charm on them. It was wonderful indeed, but few people had made the switch yet, many preferred the old way of doing things.  
  
Next to Gringotts lay the International Air Dock. It was a completely revolutionary new industry. For people, who couldn't disapparate, or didn't want to they could just go to the Air Dock. It was also easier to use than Portkeys. Portkeys took a few seconds to get to one destination to the other, but they were very painful to charm it to get it to the exact point. Also it had a high risk attached to it: people would be surprised on how many freak accidents happen every year on account of portkeys.  
  
Fleur made her was over to the Air Dock. The dock was an extremely tall building that raised up in the clouds itself and blended in them. . On every level, there was a raised platform. Fleur made her way inside, and noted with some satisfaction that it was basically young people who took advantage of this newer technology than the critical old. Although the building seemed to be made of clouds on the outside, the inside however was made out of plaster walls with a variety of winking wizards and witches portraits lining the wall. Under these variety of portraits laid rows and rows of ticketing counters, with a witch or wizard dressed in a red and blue uniform behind it. It seemed there were to many counters dedicated to ticketing, when so few now actually chose this way of voyage. But Fleur assumed that once, more people became accustomed with this mode of travel, more people would begin to show up.  
  
Fleur searched the rows of the employee's faces, trying to see which one was the best one to go to; you can tell a lot about a employee, just by his or her face. It can show anger, frustration, happiness, etc. Fleur's blue eyes landed on a tall lanky boy of about the age of 20. He had a messy array of straw-colored hair, and under his mass amount of freckles that dotted his face, laid a pale clammy skin tone. All in all he seemed like the perfect match for the perfect formula. Fleur didn't have enough money to buy a ticket, but in any case a ticket would soon be hers.  
  
The boy's eyes grew wide, as Fleur approached his counter, smiling sweetly. "Excuse me, can I purchase one one way ticket to England please?" "Uh.. Uh.. Sure, of course you can." His voice croaked, as a pink tint appeared on his cheeks. "Well than how much is one?" Fleur asked, twirling a bit of hair between her fingers. " 4 galleons, 6 sickles and 2 knuts." Fleur drew back, water in her eyes, and mumbled out a reply. " Oh ok then." Then she acted as if she was going to leave. "Wait! Why are you so upset?" Fleur looked over at him, sadly. "You see my grandmother recently died, I was hoping to go to her funeral. but." Fleur let the sentence fall, enjoying the effect of the words. She also knew she was being a hypocrite at this moment too. She had wanted to be a different person than what people had thought of her: A slut, fake and a whore. And now here she was doing the exact thing that earned her those names. 


	8. An Arrival in London

Fleur leaned back in her seat relieved.  She was going to England and away from her wretched mother.  The broomstick taking her to England must have been the world's largest broomstick.  It could hold about fifty people comfortably.  Each person had a little seat and a cup holder.  It would be a nice flight, especially since there were only about four people besides her on the flight. A ringing stirred her from her thoughts as a loud voice boomed.

            "Attention please, we will be leaving to London here shortly.   We have a few rules while on this flight.  Keep your seat belt buckled at all times.  Do not lean forward in your seat.  And PLEASE. Please, do not apply or use any magic until after you have landed."

No difficulty, Fleur thought, as her mind returned to other problems she was about to encounter.  How was she even going to get to her Aunt Margot's house?  And there was also always a possibility that they didn't have room for her. They were not exactly close.  Fleur could not even remember the last time they visited. Where else could she stay, if her plans fell through?  She didn't have a lot of money.  But as much as she hated herself for it, she had other gifts she could use to find a place to stay. 

The broom began to leave itself, making a huge booming noise. Fleur jumped in her seat.  _Were brooms supposed to make those noises?_  Fleur looked up to the front of the broom.  There was nobody guiding it, but a slivery fog covered the handle.  She looked at the other few on the flight with her; they did not look at all concerned.  They must be regulars, Fleur thought.

With all her might, Fleur tried to remain serene, but this was her first time flying a broom without someone guiding it. She was a little jumpy. The broom continued to rise.   It was maybe about 200 feet off the ground, before it shot off in the clouds.  It was going extremely fast, almost in warp speed, but yet the broom was unnaturally still.  Fleur closed her eyes; she did not want to look at clouds zipping away from her.  She might get sick.  They did not remain in the clouds long, maybe ten minutes at most.   They turned sharply down.  Fleur took a deep breath, as her stomach dropped a little bit.  It glided down for a few minutes, before she got enough courage to open her eyes again.  They were entering a tunnel.  The walls were clear and transparent, the only reason Fleur could see it was because, there was an abnormally large hole in the middle of a relatively small cloud.  With a whoosh, down they went, turning and curving as the tunnel changed in direction, ever so slightly. Then all of a sudden, it all stopped.  They were on a raised platform, on the outskirts of what looked like to be narrow winding medieval village.  

" Welcome To London," the same booming voice said, " We have landed in Diagon Alley, one of the oldest only magical places in England. If this is your stop, please take a right at the fork.  If you are traveling to Newfoundland, please stay aboard."

 Fleur quickly unbuckled her seatbelt. Her hand was shaking a little bit. That was defiantly not her favorite way to travel. 

Diagon Alley was very quaint, thought Fleur as she traveled over the stone pebbled streets. She didn't really know where she was going; she just followed the other passengers on her flight.  They seemed to know where they were going. They passed the Apothecary, Madam Malkins, and a magical creatures menagerie.  They finally stopped at a place called The Leaky Cauldron.  She entered in after the others, and looked around.  The place was dark, with candles dimly lighting up the room.  Small round tables were placed around the room, as a long rectangular table with shelves behind it held drinks. There was a staircase to the right of her and a door leading out into muggle London on the left.   It was surprisingly crowded for about nine o'clock at night.  People, dwarves, etc were all laughing, having a good time as they drank various drinks. Fleur quickly made her way around to an empty table where she set down her trunk on one of the empty chairs, as she collapsed on the other.  She didn't exactly know why she was so tired.  Her trip was not exactly exhausting at any rate, but for one reason or another, she was.  

            " Is there anything I can get you Ms?" a voice said behind her.  

Fleur gave a start and turned to look behind her.  It was an old man in a leather apron; he was growing bald and was missing some teeth. He looked to be the owner of this place. 

            "Um, not anything to eat or drink, thank you, but could you tell me how to reach somebody here?"

            "Your new here?" He asked, as she nodded.  The man stroked his chin. 

            "Well, I'm Tom the keeper of this place.  What's wrong with using floo powder?"

Fleur shook her head. "No good. Its kinda a weird situation, you see my aunt, well she's a witch, but she's married to a muggle.  The fireplace isn't exactly hooked up to the network."

Tom scratched his chin, pondering. " Well, you can always take the Knight Bus."

            "The Knight Bus?" Fleur repeated. 

"Yea, It's a bus and it will take you to your destination."

"I guess that was obvious," Fleur smiled,  "So where do I find it?"

"Just go outside, point out your wand, and light it up." He replied. 

"Thank you ever so much," Fleur smiled and gathered up her belongings.

Even though it was night, it was scorching.  Fleur quickly unbuttoned some of her robe, letting her undershirt peek out a little bit. She quickly stuck out her wand.

            "Lumos," she muttered. 

A loud bang, and suddenly a big purple bus appeared, with the words _Knight Bus_, written in silver. 

            A teenager popped out.  He had rather big ears, and quite a lot of pimples. 

            "Welcome to the Knight Bus, we can take you anywhere as long as it's in the United Kingdom—", he stopped speaking as soon as he got a good look at Fleur. His mouth dropped as his eyes surveyed her up and down. He gulped as though he was trying to say something, but nothing came out. 

            "I'm Fleur," She murmured.  She was used to these looks he was giving her, but she wanted to get this ride over with so she can see her aunt.

He nodded.

 "I'm Stan."

And that was all he said.  Fleur bent her head, waiting for more, but he just kept staring and staring.

            "Well, er—um can I get on now?"

Stan moved to the side to make room for her, his eyes never leaving her face.  She went up the steps and onto the bus.  Stan stumbled up after her, heaving his trunk.   Instead of chairs like she expected to see, there were beds.  A row of beds. There were also stairs leading to a second floor. Stan put her trunk under the bed closest to the only actual seats on the bus.

            "Um… um that will be 12 sickles if you also want your toothbrush. Also hot chocolate if you want." Stan stammered.

            " Er… alright."  Fleur scrimmaged around for her moneybag, and handed him some coins. 

"So where do you need to go, Ernie can take you anywhere." Stan pointed to a man in the driver's seat. 

            "Manchester please." Fleur said as she sat down.

With a loud bang they were off. I've had enough of these noises, Fleur thought as she looked out the window.  Ernie, it seemed needed better glasses. He had already thick glasses, but he was always running into objects; a mailbox, a tree, and even in one instance a house.  They never actually really hit anything.  Everything jumped out of the way as Ernie steered into them.  And to make matters worse, Stan was still staring at her.  Fleur tried to go to sleep, but the bangs and the fear that one time they might actually hit something kept her awake.  The brakes suddenly came to a screeching halt, as Fleur shot up.

"Alright where in Manchester."

Fleur gave him the street address and they were in front of her Aunt and Uncle's house in less then five seconds. Stan helped her with her trunk and then with a bang the Knight Bus was off again. 

Well, I'm here at last, Fleur thought as she looked at the dark bricked house that belonged to Margot and Walter.  Crickets could be heard on the front lawn and Fleur climbed the front steps.  She knocked on the door hanger twice before a middle-aged woman answered the door. She had dark brown eyes, and the same black hair that her dad had.  She was a little shorter then she, and a little bit pudgier.

            "Aunt Margot?" Fleur wondered.

            "Fleur!"

A/N: Wow ok I haven't written in a very very very long time, and I'm really really really sorry.  I've been really busy with school and all this other crap going on in my life.  Now that I got most of that sort out, and now I'm on summer vacation.  I have a lot more time to write.  Anywho I hoped you like the chapter. I'll write again soon. 

            


	9. Freedom

A/N:  This will be my last chapter before the fifth book comes out, which won't be long J.  I hope you like this chapter. Its kinda another blah intermediate chapter.  It characterizes Margot a little bit more, not much though.  You will see more of her in the next chapter.  It also in a way question Fleur, in her thoughts actions and feelings.   Its subtle, but hopefully everyone will grasp it.  If not, it will become clearer in later chapters.         

Fleur was quickly ushered inside, as Margot placed a teakettle on the stove.  

"Good gracious, Fleur what are you doing here? And at this time too."

            "Er… well I was hoping for a place to stay. Is that alright?"

                        "Well of course it is, but what for? What are you doing here?"

Fleur twiddled her thumbs in her lap.  She was a little unsure of what to say.  Should she say that she ran off from her mother because she was sick of her? Or should she leave that part of the story out.  But as Fleur looked up into her Aunt's eyes, furrowed together with worry. She knew she couldn't lie to her, she needed to let Margot know that everything was all right, in a figurative sense that is.   So Fleur told her the whole story, rushing out her words.  She did not leave out any details.  From, the letter modeling agency letter to the fight with her mother and to the end with her leaving from the air dock, Fleur told it all. Her aunt remained silent for a while, taking it all in. Finally she took a deep breath.

            "Does your mother know you are here?"

Fleur shook her head. "No."

            "She must be worried sick.  Does she have a phone? I don't have an owl anymore—I got rid of it after Walter—but anyways we need to tell her that you are here!"

            Fleur shot out and reached out for her aunt's hand. "NO! No, no please don't tell her.  I won't go back to her!"

Margot who had started to get up from her seat, suddenly sat down again, rubbing her arms under her robe. 

            "Fleur," she told her patiently. "I have to tell her. She must be worried sick."

            "I don't want to go back to her. I need to stay here, I have to stay here. It is the only way!"

"Need too, or want too?"

            "Need too." Fleur said firmly.

Margot leaned forward to in her seat, her hands clasped together on the table. "Why?"

            She doesn't know about you-know-who, Fleur thought, and she needs to know.  The ministry was idiotic for closing it up.  The deaths would start pouring in.  There would be a threat against Walter.  Her aunt needed to know.

            "Aunt Margot, the dark lord has risen again.

She just stared, stared as if Fleur was some kind of lunatic. "Fleur, this is to late at night for nonsense like that."

            "It is not nonsense." Fleur told her calmly. "I am speaking truth. 

She just looked at her blankly and then shook her head, "Fleur it has been a late night, perhaps you should get to bed. I have an extra--."  

            "No!" Fleur interrupted. "I am not tired, I am not some crazy person. I am telling you because it is true.  Listen to me!" she took a deep breath before she continued.

            "Last year, when I was a champion for the Triwizard Tournament, we had a fourth champion, Harry Potter.  I know you must have read it all in the Daily Prophet. But it was You-Know-Who's plan from the beginning. Harry Potter was to be guided along with the tasks, with the dark lord's helper guiding him along. An imposter! Please auntie, you must listen to me!  The last task was rigged. I was also attacked that night.  Cedric, another champion and Harry were transported to You-Know-Who's lair.  He murdered Cedric! Don't you understand, the dark lord has risen again!"

            Fleur gasped, out of air. She had rushed all those words out of her, in a blurb.  She had to get it out.  Margot needed to see.

She sat still, looking straight ahead but not really seeing anything.  Margot seemed not to know what to do.  She slowly turned and looked at Fleur, her lip trembling a little.

            "Help us God." She whispered, as silent tears fell from her eyes and down on her cheeks.

            Fleur was given the guest bed and as much as she didn't like it, Margot had contacted her mother through fire.  She wasn't going home, Margot told her.  She had convinced Mme. Delacour to let her stay over in England for a little while. 

            "Did you tell her about You-Know-Who?" Fleur wanted to know as she got settled in her bed.

            "No."  Margot shook her head gathering up some extra pillows.  "She would think that I had gone off my rocker. " She stopped and shuddered. "I simply told her that you needed to be away for a little while and that you needed to experience freedom."

            "I'm surprised still that she bought that and let me stay."

Her aunt gave her a sharp look.  "I was speaking truth just now when I was talking to her.  You need to experience new things and mature a little."

Fleur opened her mouth and closed it several times before answering, "I AM mature."

            "No your not, but your on the road to being it. Good night."  She told her and turned out the light. 

Fleur laid down and looked up at the ceiling. 

            "Of course I'm mature. Aren't I" 

A/N: There you have it.   I hope you like it.  Like I said before I wont be updating a new chapter until the new hp book comes out.  I have my own theories on book five that I had planned out for this story.  I can't wait to see if they are close to what JKR writes.  Bye bye!

            


	10. The Daily Prophet

A/N: Ok so I have finished the book.  I'm already reading it a second time!  Not much happens to Fleur in it.  I think she's only mentioned once.  So I still get to be creative with her character. Good thing for me.   Well anyways hope you like the chapter. 

Fleur woke up at half past seven to the smells of eggs and bacon cooking. She quickly got up and put on a pair of green robes.  Her aunt was by the stove, with a skillet in her hand when Fleur entered the kitchen. Her uncle Walter was sitting at the table, the newspaper spread in front of him.

            "Good morning, would you like some eggs and kippers?"  Margot had looked up from the stove. Smiling up at her.  She seemed in a better mood today.

            "No thank-you, do you have any juice though?"

            "It's on the table."

Fleur took the seat opposite of her uncle as she poured herself a glass of orange juice and grabbed a piece of toast sitting on the plate beside it.  Walter was a short squat of a man.  He had black hair that was slowly thinning in the middle. He seemed to be engrossed in a article about socks that released sweat instead of just absorbing it. 

            "My father's company invented those!" Fleur exclaimed. Then she briefly wondered if he had returned home yet.

Her uncle looked at her through his round spectacles.  His eyes flashed.

            Fleur cursed herself silently. She knew he hated magic, both her aunt and her mother had warned her of that. Way to make a good impression.

He then rolled up his newspaper and went to his wife, kissed her on the cheek.

            "I'll be home around five." Then he made his way to the front door.  The start of the engine was heard outside the kitchen window and then quite suddenly gone.

            "Erm… sorry.  I didn't mean—forgot that he doesn't like magic."  Fleur looked down at her plate.

            "No don't be.  He's been married to a witch for about twenty years.  He should be getting used to magic now."

Fleur gaped. "But you stopped using magic long ago!"

            "  Yes I have for the most part." She had sat in the chair that used to be occupied by her husband.  "I still use a little when he's not around. You can't take the magic out of a witch entirely you know." She smiled as she took a sip of tea.

            Fleur opened her mouth several times before actually saying something.  "But you seemed to be so unaware of everything yesterday."

            "Unaware of you-know-who my dear, not of magic or anything like that. I'm not a moron."  She grinned savagely.

            "You take just my word on it?"

            "Yes, you and Dumbledore's and Harry Potter's."

            " What?"

            "Daily Prophet. Look."  Margot got up pulled open a drawer and took out several copies of the magical newspaper and showed them to Fleur.  They all had headlines such as MAD AS HARRY or DUMBLEDORE GONE SENILE.   The stories were on how they both insisted that the Dark Lord wasn't back and that it was all complete nonsense.  _"  Harry Potter lives for glory and fame.  His pain he experiences in his scar is a lie.  All he wants is more attention. Quite sad really. Now his latest stunt is to claim that you-know-who is alive, but it is complete hogwash.  The boy is damaged in the head."_  Quoted Fudge, Minister of Magic.

            Fleur crunched the paper in her hands.  She was livid.  Why did the Ministry not believe?  She had been there! She knew that Harry was speaking truth.

            "This prophet says that they have both gone mad and yet you believe them?" Fleur asked as Margot nodded solemnly.

                        "Fudge has always been a little bit of an idiot.  And even if I did not trust Harry Potter, I do trust Dumbledore. He would not believe Potter's story if it was not true." 

Fleur stared at her for a moment.  "Then why did you think I was crazy when I first told you?"

            "Well, in the beginning I guess I didn't believe.  It was too easy to believe the ministry's version of what happened last year.  But you were a champion too, and if all the champions say that he is back, Dumbledore says he's back, then something of that story has to be true.  And I also think that Diggory lad dying in a freak accident would draw more attention to the press, but they want to keep that profile low."

            "So…" she continued, "What were you planning to do here anyway?  I just can't let you stay here and do nothing.  Poor old Walter might die of a heart attack if he learns he has to do deal with two witches all day long."

            Fleur who was taken aback by the quick change of subjects, laughed.  She sat back in her chair

" Well, I've had my eye on teaching." Fleur looked up at her aunt briefly, but her face was a mask to all expression or emotion.  "I mean I know I'd probably not be a good one, since my heritage and everything.  But I want to show them things. Help them learn, that there are many things in the magical world that are evil, that are good. And that there is a between, between good and evil." Fleur had rushed this all out of her mouth.  She was surprised that those words were _in _her.

            "I don't think you would be a bad teacher.  Your heritage would make it a little hard though to teach the _male_ part of your class."  Margot's mouth twitched. "But in any case to be a great teacher you actually do need to experience the world first, before you try to teach it."

            Fleur frowned.  She could say that she had experienced the world, and that she knew what it was all about.  But that would be entirely wrong. She had no idea really what the outside world was like.  She did not have the age or wisdom to teach kids only a few years younger then she was.  No, no she could not be a teacher yet.  Her mother was right.  She could not be a teacher not only because she was part veela but also because she had no clue about anything other then her home in France and the stuff she learned from books at school.   

            She slumped back in her chair.  "I've just come here in vain.  There was no point in me coming here was there." She whispered. 

            "Hardly so!" Her aunt said, indignant.  "Just because you shouldn't be a teacher yet does not mean you have wasted your time coming here.   How do you think you experience the outside world?  By living at home?  Indeed no!  You learn from experiencing new things, having a job, being on your own, away from your parents."

Fleur grinned somewhat sadly.  "I'm living now with you though. I don't call that living on my own."

            "Well that's because you don't have a job. You need a job first before you get your own place."

            "Yea that's true.. I suppose."

            "Of course it's true.. now get going if you want to find a job before nightfall."

A/N: I'll write again soon. 

            

            


	11. A Tour of Gringott's

A/N: Happy 4th! 

With the help of her aunt, Fleur managed to find her way back to Diagon Alley.  They had taken the underground. Fleur thought Diagon Alley was perhaps the best place to look for a job.  It was a marketplace after all; it was sure to have lots of opportunities.  Besides she was having anti-ministry feelings right now.  Margot who walked at her side down the narrow pathway between all the shops was telling her all the details about each individual store.

            "See over there that's Lady Hovess' Dress Robes for all Occasions.  Those robes are absolutely fine. Better then even Madam Malkins designs. And oh, over there is an absolutely lovely coffee shop.  They have some very unique flavors."   She smiled.  "It's been so long since I've been here, I'd thought that maybe a little of Diagon Alley would have changed.  But I'm happy it hasn't, I love the _old_ feeling to it.  It sure beats The Dragon Pub does it not?"

            Fleur nodded, as she looked at all the shops, seeing if she could find one that interested her. So far they passed quills and parchment shops, Zonko's, Divination Delights: supplies to help all your future telling needs, and a bookstore. No luck so far. 

            They made a stop at Gringotts.  Margot needed to withdraw some money out of her vault, which in a long time had not been used.  And Fleur, she needed to start her own account in England, since she would be living there for quite some time.

            Fleur filled out the paperwork for getting a vault, while her aunt went and visited her own. 

_Full name:  _Fleur Voletta Delacour

_Date of Birth:_  5/1/1976  

_How many accounts beside this one do you have: _none

_Have ever committed a crime or have a criminal record: _no__

_Single, Widowed, Married?: _Single__

_If married, spouses name and current address:_

Those were the type of questions on the form.  As she made her way back to give it back to a rather nasty looking goblin, she saw a rather curious looking green sheet sitting beside the account forms.  Interested, Fleur picked one up. It read:

                                    **ACOUNTANTS: JOB APPLYING INFO**

More curious now, she read on. 

            **Job requirements: Arthimancy, Ancient Runes, Charms, and History of Magic with N.E.W.T's of an A or better.**

**            Hours: 9:00 to 5:00**

Fleur grinned as she read the rest.  She quickly got her vault number, (567) and headed over to a goblin that the others pointed out to be as the "Interviewer"

            He took her application and stared at her through his beady eyes.

            "Number of N.E.W.T's you received and in what subjects?"  He spoke in a old tired voice, his eyes were bored.

            " Seven N.E.W.T's in Arthimancy, Ancient Runes, Charms, History of Magic, Care of Magical Creatures, Muggle Studies, and Astronomy."

The goblin's eyes perked up a bit.  Seven N.E.W.T's was quite good.  "Grades in each subject?"

            "Arthimancy an E, Ancient Runes an O, Charms an O, History of Magic an A, Care of Magical Creatures an E, Muggle Studies an O and Astronomy an E." She told him.

            "What school did you graduate from?"

            " Beauxbatons Academy."

The Goblin flipped through some papers he had and pulled out, with her school's name written across it.  He read a few lines and then motioned her through a iron door.

            " Your guide will be with you in there shortly."

Fleur took a seat on a chair beside a big wooden table.  The walls were made of marble and had a huge portrait of a rather ugly goblin on the wall facing her. She sat for a few moments before deciding to take out her wand. She swished it upwards then down and a cup of tea appeared.  I might as well be comfortable while I wait, she thought, taking small sips. She turned her eyes to look around, and suddenly spat out her tea.   There was a section of the wall that was opening!  A tall red-haired man stepped out.  The wall closed behind him. Stupid, stupid, stupid, Fleur cursed herself as she cleaned up her spat out tea.  How long have I've been a witch?  Walls become doors all the time.

            "Sorry about the tea, you startled me." She muttered not looking up. 

            " It's alright. Don't worry lots of people get erm startled when I use that way."

Fleur looked up and gasped.  He was tall, with long red hair tied in a ponytail.  He had warm brown eyes and a fang earring in his ear.  His smile was brilliant, showing each of his pearly white teeth.  She had seen that man before!  When she was at Hogwarts last year.  He had come to visit Harry.  She knew because she happened to be eyeing him at the time.

            "I'm Bill Weasley, I'll be instructing you for about maybe a month or two.  Just so you can get the feel for Gringotts.  I'll show you around and everything. Ms. Delacour, is that right?"

            She nodded. "But my first name works too."

He grinned and looked down at a paper he was holding. "Alright Fleur then."

            She smiled.  

" We'll start by giving you the tour of Gringotts."  He got up from his chair and made for the door in the wall. 

            "Um… Monsieur. Weasley could I possibly go tell my aunt where I'm going before we start? She needs to get home, I don't want her waiting for me."

"Sure.  My first name works too."  He grinned as she laughed. "Alright Bill then."

            They walked in and out of all the many rooms of Gringotts, with Bill pointing out certain places and people.

" Over there, that's Wangser. He's not that…well he's a tad grumpy.  He's in top security.  He puts all the charms and things on the vaults." Bill told her pointing over to a white haired goblin.  "And in here, you'll find all the information and files on our account keepers and employees and customers."  

            They had walked into an oval room.   The walls were made of dark wood and the floor was marble with many different varieties of rugs spread about it. Bookshelves were all along the walls, towering up to the ceiling.  Each Bookshelf adorned a gold letter next to it, such as A or B. The folders were all put in alphabetical order.  

                        " Carney, Tavis."  Somebody said.  A folder from the C bookshelf came flying down.

            "Does this room only have files of customers in Britain or does it have every customer around the world?" Fleur asked Bill. 

            " Aye, it carries all our customers, even ones in Japan. In case of emergencies." 

From that room they moved into one with desks spread out across the floor.  Goblins and people were responding to owls that dropped in through the fireplaces every few minutes and to the flying notes flapping its way to people across the room.  Other people were bent over parchment, writing responses as fast as the could, while others were constantly moving in and out of the surrounding rooms, taking files and putting some back.

            "This is where you will be working." He told her.   How she would we be able to work with all this racket was beyond her, but never the less, Fleur followed him with out complaint to an empty desk by a window. 

            The desk was made of finely polished wood but was bare of anything except for a lamp over at the edge.  She sat down in her chair and looked up at Bill, giving him an expression that said "Now what".

            "Well," Bill shrugged, "Let hell commence."

A/N:  Ok well I think this is the first not blah intermediate chapter I wrote since I wrote chapter 8. You finally get to meet Bill.  He's not really developed yet, but he will as the story progresses obviously.   Next chapter you will see more of Bill and be introduced to two more characters. 


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